When Spearows Go GAAAH!: Ash's 1001th Adventure
by Why must I be Omelette
Summary: Ash and the regular gang of doofi are wandering aimlessly around when they encounter a vaguely familiar girl whose past entertwines with their own.
1. Is this a rerun?

__

[Author's note: I have decided to do this fic like a real Pokémon episode or perhaps movie, complete with all of the corny jokes, perfect-TV-timing, and oh, yes, new characters. Any conscientious viewer of Pokémon knows that there has probably never been a show made where there were no new characters were introduced, except, possibly, some episodes that take place in Pallet and at the Indigo league. (Prove me wrong, please, just don't yell at me!) Therefore, new characters are essential! If you don't like new characters, than I have no idea why you watch Pokémon. But oh well. Tough cookies. Sucks to be you! Anyway, now that I'm done with all of this random spouting-off-ness… Enjoy my 2230 words of first chapter-ness, with many more words to come. I love feedback, and find flames that are semi intelligent positively invigorating. Any type of fire is useful for my burning needs… I don't have a unlimited supply of flame-throwers, you know… Wait… I don't have any flame-throwers. So, yes… along with the flames, send me matches. Aheheheh. Ok, I'll shut up now. So read!]

[PS: There is a disclaimer… To the people who made Pokémon… you own this… and oh yes, what were you thinking when you brought Tracy into this world? And how about when you made that stupid Pokémon CD with the Ash and Misty love song? ::shudders:: Bad Poké People!]

[Oh yes, now the story.]

****

…One

"… And with us today, we have Gwendolyn Champoni, Champion Master of the Indigo league since the age of fifteen, who remains one of the most enigmatic figures in the Pokémon world…"

"Turn it up, Ash!"

Ash groaned. Misty was always telling him what to do, like he didn't know any better. He wanted to hear this too, of course. He reached for the remote control intentionally slowly, and pressed the volume button once. The announcer's voice was still barely audible.

"ASH!"

Geez. Ash gave in and turned the TV up all the way, and Misty plopped down onto the cheap-hotel couch, a little too close to Ash for comfort. He scooted away quickly, right into Brock, who was drooling already. Typical; Brock found himself attracted to any creature remotely female, except, as far as Ash knew, Pokémon. Of course, he might have a thing for Pokémon as well, but really…Ugh.

Of course, in some cases, the fourteen-year-old couldn't blame Brock. The woman on the screen, only in her early twenties, was fairly attractive, not like some of the dogs that Brock went after. Her freckled face and blond hair, however, were familiar to most conscientious trainers, and Ash really couldn't understand Brock's excitement. She was just a girl. OK looking, but please. She was on TV, speaking formally to a reporter. It was hard for Ash to connect faces on the television with real, live, people.

"So, Miss Champoni---" 

"No, please, call me Gwen." She grinned at the reporter. 

"OK, then, Gwen," the reporter said, returning her smile easily. "How are you feeling after the big tournament?"

Ash closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch. This experience was relaxing, familiar.

He had still been living at home when Gwen Champoni had placed first in the Indigo League and then defeated the Elite Four _and_ the standing champion, all in one breath, or at least, so it seemed on TV. Ash had been nine, and he and his mom sat, glued to the couch through nearly the whole week of the League Competitions and Elite Four battles. He remembered how ecstatic, how _rabid_ his mom had been when Gwen defeated the standing champion, a middle-aged man who had held that spot for nearly thirty years. When his last Pokémon, a monstrous Blastoise, fell, Delia Ketchum sat in silence, mouth literally hanging, for about twenty seconds. Ash was starting to wonder whether she had gone catatonic when she leaped up and started screaming and whooping. She dashed to the room and made a phone call that mainly consisted of screaming and squealing. Ash never found out whom she called or why she was so thrilled by some strange teenager's victory. He always thought that it was either some weird feminist "You-go-Girl" thing or either his mom just placed an awful lot of money on this girl. Neither explanation really made that much sense, and Ash always had wondered since then why his mom was so happy. Just thinking of it now made him sad. He missed his mom. Ash tuned back into the television.

Gwen was saying something about training. "…know, in winter, I settle down in one place. That's how I graduated from high school and college."

The reporter nodded approvingly. Smart child. "What months?"

"November through March. Quite a while, when you're talking about Pokémon." At this, she fingered a pokeball, visibly anxious to get outside and start doing something.

"And your Pokémon?" The reported pressed.

"Excuse me?"

Ash looked around. Misty was way into this. Whether his mom was or not, she really liked the girl power thing. Gwen was one of Misty's role models, whatever that meant.

"…Obtain a permit for a training center. That way I can keep all of my Pokémon with me. Not just six. Of course, though, I can only take six out of the room."

There was a knock on the door, loud and demanding. Ash jumped. "Checkout time in ten minutes."

"Okay!" Misty screamed, obviously pissed that they were being kicked out in the middle of this interview. The knocking stopped and the three focused their attention back onto the television. 

"Are there any young men in your life?" the reporter asked with a smile.

Gwen laughed. "Oh, many," she answered carefully. "About half of my Pokémon are male." She grinned and the reporter laughed. 

Ash wasn't quite sure, but he thought he heard Brock muttering under his breath.

****

***

"I'm hungry," Ash said, his voice quickly ascending into a whine. It had been a week since they checked out of the hotel, and the three were completely and utterly…"Are we lost?" He answered his own question, as everybody, including Pikachu, was trying to ignore him. "We _are_ lost."

"No shit, Sherlock," Misty muttered under her breath, shooting a look at Ash, who withered under her stare. 

They were all silent for a while, save for Brock's cheery hum and Togepi's occasional squeals. Ash looked sullenly around. This place looked kind of familiar. The cliffs. The forest, broken occasionally by meadows. The flowers. A lightbulb lit, then blew in his head. "Aww…"

Suddenly, Brock caught on. "Hey! Aren't we near the place where we set Butterfree…" He struggled, trying not to say the word 'free' twice in a row. "… Um, loose?"

"Butterfree?" Ash asked in confusion.

"Butterfree," repeated Misty impatiently. "The first Pokémon that you caught. The first one that evolved. You almost traded…" She trailed off, and rolled her eyes. If Ash's face were any blanker, people would mistake it for a window.

Brock gave her a knowing look and shrugged. "At least we know where we are now. You know, it's the same time of year when everyone was here to let the Pokémon loose." He paused. "I wonder if the festival's going on now?" They continued walking, and in perfect TV show timing, the woods dissolved into a clearing, where people were milling around and launching balloons.

Misty fell to her knees in relief. "Finally. We can find someone with a car and get out of this godforsaken treehole! I can't walk any more."

Brock stepped a little further out into the clearing and squinted, looking up at the sky. "Not yet, Mist. Practically everyone's up in the air now. There's no way---"

Misty began to wail, rolling and pounding her fists on the ground. Ash joined her, falling headfirst onto the grass and nearly crushing Pikachu. Brock rolled his eyes. This was so pathetic.

"Of course," he said, his voice inaudible over the choruses of "it'snotfairit'snotfairit'snotfair", "we could always wait it out up…" He stopped, and nudged Pikachu.

The Pokémon puffed up and began to charge for a shock. "Piii…" Misty and Ash didn't hear it over their whining. "Kaaa…" Misty shut up and held onto Ash's arm in fright. "Chuuuu!" Ash looked up right before the thunderbolt hit him, a look of pure terror in his oversized eyes. Brock laughed as they sizzled. He so enjoyed justice. 

They shook and writhed on the ground as Pikachu hit them with an oversized stick. "Pika pika!" he/she/it warned, wiggling his/her/its tail suggestively. Ash and Misty groaned and slowly raised themselves from the ground. Misty was barely able to stand, so she leaned against Ash, who was too out of it to notice and recoil in disgust. 

Brock coughed and spoke up. "As I was saying," he said, suppressing a grin, for he so liked to see the pair suffer, "Why don't we go up to that place where we stood before?" He pointed to an elevated ledge. We'll get to say hi to gir-- um, balloonists, you two can get some sun, and the view is magnificent."

Ash stumbled toward Brock. "You know that if I weren't so weak right now, I would kill you." 

Brock shrugged, and tapped Ash, causing him to fall over. "That's what friends are for, you know."

****

***

Sunset was coming and the three were content on the ledge. Ash and Misty had very bad memories, so they held no grudge against Brock. They were, in fact, too busy flirting and trying to kill each other to notice him.

"Not like I'm doing anything that they would care about," muttered Brock, watching Misty slap Ash clear across the face. Oh well. Those two would always be like that.

Instead of bothering with the twerps, Brock gazed out into the sky, focusing on the balloonists, all of whom were saying goodbye to Pokémon. Hundreds of incredibly intimate scenes were being played out in front of him. He kinda liked it. The whole experience was similar to the soap operas that he had occasionally watched when he cleaned house for his brothers and sisters. Um… not like he enjoyed them or anything…heh heh. 

Brock looked around aimlessly for a moment, looking for an especially good balloon to watch. One far from the others, over a cliff, caught his eye. It was blue and red, and actually quite near to the spot where Brock sat. He squinted, trying to make out the people inside. …A woman, tall and blonde was the most obvious. Brock could barely see her. Then next to her, a Raichu, mellow orange. Brock wistfully thought of how much electricity that thing could send into Ash and Misty's puny little bodies. _Ah, no use in dreaming, _he thought, eyes traveling to a large, glossy Pidgeot, who sat contentedly next to the electric mouse._ But where's the…? Oh._ A large Butterfree, shocking blue, fluttered around the balloon, anxious to go. It was probably afraid of having to fly off on its own. _Shouldn't worry_, Brock thought. A lot of Butterfree had already left, but there were still some here. In fact, there was a huge group coming this way.

Brock blinked. _Coming this way?_ Surely, they wouldn't… He squinted hard at the large swarm of dark specks that was practically rushing this way. Butterfree didn't move that quickly, nor did they have that shape. It's almost as if they were…

"Spearow," he whispered. A bit odd to have them flying around now, but not unheard of. It was possible that they had been attacking other Pokémon or something. Brock shuddered. He disliked Spearow. They were so violent. He shrugged it off. If they were just passing through, they could do no harm. 

They passed, slowing their pace a bit, and even Ash and Misty looked up to watch them. Pikachu whimpered and buried its face in Ash's jacket, and Ash scowled. Brock never found out for sure, but he always supposed that Ash had done something stupid to provoke a Spearow, and they had hurt him. Typically Ash, of course. Ash was always committing some terrible taboo or trying to catch some forbidden Pokémon, so Brock never thought about it much when he whimpered in fear at the sight of a Pokémon. Stupid mistakes explained Ash's disproportionate fear of many Pokémon species. 

The Spearow passed the group and were just about to pass the balloons as well when the magnificent Pidgeot from the red balloon squawked. Brock was no expert on bird Pokémon, but even _he_ could tell that the noise was a challenge; this was clear from the Spearows' reaction alone, which was almost comical. They nearly halted before making a sharp turn toward the blue and red balloon. Ash, Misty, and Brock (Pikachu was still hiding) watched anxiously as the Spearow calmly flew toward and perched on the balloon. Brock and the others exhaled, only to nearly choke as the Pokémon, almost as if on signal, started to violently peck the balloon.

"What the hell?" said Brock, confusion evident in his voice. 

Misty covered her eyes. "They're attacking the balloon!"

Brock's eyes flashed. "But Pokémon don't do that! They just don't! They're good, not evil."

Ash spoke up, his voice uneven; his fists clenched. "Not evil, just violent."

"We have to help."

"Misty," Brock said helplessly, "we can't. We don't have any flying Pokémon. The girl herself," he pointed angrily at the balloon, which was shaking," is loading up all her Pokémon on that whale of a Pidgeot. The only thing we can do is…" Brock looked at Ash, who looked at Misty in turn. As if on signal, they began to run down the small mountain through the trails that would lead to the field where the girl would crash.


	2. Princesses and Warriors

Afterwards, Brock could never fully remember what happened that day. The few minutes after the balloon crash were hazy at best, and incomplete, like a slideshow with a few slides missing. He remembered a series of images: cloth billowing like a cloud pokéballs rolling through the grass, and the girl, white and still, limbs splayed out at dangerous angles. So silent, so stiff. This was one image that would stick with him forever, no matter how hard he tried to rid it from his mind. As he first approached her, he was reminded of a dead bird, still and fragile. The girl, however, was not dead- -- yet. Ignoring all he had learned about first aid, Brock carefully scooped her up, hefting her weight with a bit of difficulty. For a moment, all that what was happening around him faded away--- Ash and Misty collecting the girl's Pokémon, various other trainers rushing down to gawk---, and he listened to the girl's shallow breathing and felt her shiver against him. Her nose was bleeding and her face was scratched, yet she still looked familiar, like one of the princesses in his childhood story books. This is what this pale creature is, he thought, a princess. It was just as well, Brock knew, that she was unconscious--- the only time that he ever would dare to touch a girl like this was in her sleep.

"Sleep well, princess," he murmured, shifting her weight in his arms in order to wipe the blood from her nose. He got a firm grip on her again, and began to walk towards the path. As quickly as it had faded away the first time, the world swam in at him again. Brock struggled to keep hold of her as he shoved his way through the growing crowd. They pressed against him as he walked by, straining for a glimpse of the unlucky girl. 

"Hey," he heard someone say, "is that...?" Brock became acutely aware of the silence that descended upon the crowd at this question. Someone leaned in to look. 

"Oh, my god, it is." The whispers erupted more rapidly than they had ebbed. 

"Gwen Champoni!"

"...believe it?"

"Is she dead?" 

"Quick, do you... the camera?"

With new determination, Brock shoved his way through the crowd. So. Not a princess at all; this girl was a warrior; fierce, not fragile. He saw the difference now. "Please, clear the way," he called above the noise. "Please, move--- listen, get that damn flashbulb away, or--- excuse me, she's injured." With each step he became more frustrated. Almost out of nowhere, seven or eight people formed sort of an honor guard in front of him. Thank God for good people. An older man turned around and nodded at Brock. 

"Right, leave it up to us. You just keep walking, we'll get everyone out of the way." Brock nodded in relief. 

"Thank you," he said. The man didn't hear Brock's thanks; he was too busy shoving gawkers out of the way. 

"Come on, laddie," he roared, not looking back at Brock. With the guard shoving people out of the way in the front and Ash, Misty, and Pikachu at his sides, Brock managed to proceed up the trail. Finally they broke into the clearing at the top. The line in front led them in the direction of the parked cars. 

"You, boy," Brock heard one of the women who helped them up the trail say, "can you get them to the nearest Pokécenter fast?"

"Is-- is it that injured trainer? Yeah, sure, I'll take him." Brock knew this new voice, yet could not place it. 

"Thank you." The line in front of them split, and in a second, Brock, Misty and Ash registered the all too familiar trainer that stood before them. 

"Gary," Ash sneered, eager for an altercation with his rival. Gary Oak did not respond. He stood open mouthed, staring at the girl in Brock's arms. "Holy..." he muttered, his voice cracking. "I..." He screwed his eyes shut. "Get her in the back, quick. Quick!" Not even bothering to open the driver's side door, he jumped into the convertible and slammed his hand on the steering wheel. "Come on, come on," he muttered, watching them put her in the car. Soon they were all in, Ash in the front, shooting weird looks at Gary, Brock and Misty on either side of the girl. Gary, however, did not start the car. Instead he sat turned around in his seat, staring at Gwen, his hand on her cold one as if looking for some sign of life.

"What, want an autograph?" Ash asked nastily, taking any opportunity to insult his rival. As soon as the words escaped his mouth, though, Ash knew that he had somehow overstepped the line.

"Bastard," Gary said in a deadly whisper. "That's what you want, isn't it? Next time she writes, I'll ask her to make her signature real pretty and tear it out for you." With this, he turned around and began to drive. The fifteen minute ride was silent and excruciatingly long. As Gary demolished the speed limit and skidded on turns, Brock stared out into the distance. Was this girl really who everyone thought she was? Then what was Gary saying? That he knew her? That was too ridiculous to believe. Brock fingered a pokéball, one of _hers_. 

"Whoa," he breathed. He turned to Misty and mouthed, "Fabulous five." Misty shook her head, and smiled sadly. She understood. The fabulous five were the five Pokémon that Gwen kept permanently in her party. The Pidgeot, Charizard, Blastoise, Raichu, and Gyrados became famous when she did. Also famous was the fact that she left the sixth slot in her party in rotation, usually occupied by a baby Pokémon that needed experience. It was overly confident, almost arrogant. Brock always had liked it. 

At the time Gwen became famous, he was her age, and a barely pubescent boy. He had imagined that he would encounter the young master on the road and save her life with his rock Pokémon, of which she had none. He would, at the same time, convince her of the superiority of rock Pokémon and make her fall in love with him. "Oh Brock," she would gush in admiration, and beg him to join her. 

He almost laughed. How stupid. He'd saved her life for the time being, but she was in no position to thank him.


End file.
